Untitled No 5
by Raven Sharpe
Summary: Modern Day, Alternative Universe. Erik and Chris meet in New York City. He - an assassin for hire. Him - a grad student recently moved to the U.S. Rated T for the violence that any good assassin ensues.


I'm baaack... miss me? I've got this horrendous thing called winter break, and this year I have nothing to do but twiddle my thumbs and write more bad fanfiction. Please feed my addiction to feedback in the dear little box below.

-((0))

I opened up the post box for the 5th time since Monday. It was probably going to be empty again. I got ready to greet the small brown spider that inhabited the slot, but his little web had been cleared out. He sat on one of the walls of the post box glaring down at the fat white envelope that had destroyed his home with a brutal shove of some underpaid student. I pulled it out cautiously and glanced at the label. It was from the University. Fearing the worst, I tucked the envelope under my arm and headed up the stairs towards my lonely room on the fourth floor. I closed the door behind me and pushed the bike out of my way. Sitting down on the sofa, I grabbed the silver Swiss army knife I used as a letter opener and slit open the letter.

_You probably didn't get in_, my pessimistic brain reminded me. _True, but we might've_, the optimistic side cooed. Ripping it open, I pulled out the three-fold letter and started reading:

"Dear Mr. Daae:

I would like to congradulate you on your acceptance to the University..."

I got in. _I_ got in. I GOT IN! I let out a holler of joy as I read voraciously through the rest of the letter. I breathed a sigh of relief. So much worrying for nothing. I had gotten in. And, as it looked like, had a fellowship that would cover full tuition and expenses. This was great. I was going to America. Finally. I had been dreaming about going to New York City ever since I was a kid. And now I had the perfect chance. Also included in the letter was an invite to a special gathering. I looked at the date: December 20th. It was during winter break. I grabbed my jacket to go to the store for a new passport picture. I was going to America.

-((0))

These people and their guns. Guns make people stupid.

The arms dealer I was following turned around. I ducked behind the trash can. He barked some Russian orders and I heard the smack of military grade boots headed my way. I rolled my eyes. These mere dumb-asses with cheap pistols.

I waited. The clang of cans being kicked over. Twenty feet away. I took a slow, deep breath. Fifteen. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. I took a deep breath and notched an arrow. Three. Two. There. I let go of the bowstring. It twanged a perfect C as the notched arrow flew into the air. I watched it as it bent to the left, hitting the first man through the left part of the chest where his heart beat. It bent right as it left him, hitting the second in the back, through the place where his aorta should be. Finally, as it slowed, the feathers bloodied, it hit the third and final man through the temples, stopping as it reached the other side of his skull.

I watched the arms dealer's expression as it fell from confidence to horror as he watched three of his men fall silently in front of him. I noted that he was probably new to the business. I stood up, out of my hidey-hole and started to walk towards him. He fumbled for the keys to the black suburban behind him. He was unarmed and he knew it. I notched another arrow, so focused on killing this little mouse that I didn't even hear the police until they were right behind me.

"Drop your weapon and step away from the car."

I grimaced. Damn it. There was no killing this guy now. Not with the police closing in from all of the angles. Quietly I move a piece of broken wood to the grate at my feet. I counted to three and tossed a small explosive as I stomped on the piece of wood. The grate jumped into the air as I jumped down into the little dirty hole. _Bang! _I heard the explosive go off and I started running down the tunnel.

When I moved to New York, I did a little research on all of the abandoned subway tunnels. There were miles of them, stretching through out the underground of New York City. I would have to move fast. It would take them a few minutes to sort out the explosion, but I couldn't bank completely on the idea that one of them didn't notice me slipping down the grate.

I cursed at the fact that I was going to not only change faces, but relocate. I had set up camp in a measly, rat-infested corner of the old subway tunnels. I would have to clear out everything before the police decided to search the tunnels. I thought about how pleasant these tunnels were. I would certainly miss them. But, I guess that they were getting a bit chilly at night. Winter was setting on. I started clearing out my things. Time to move on. I peeled off my old mask and affixed a new one, I grabbed my bags, and climbed out onto another abandoned alley-way in Manhattan.

-((0))

I took one last look at my room. It never had looked very homey, but it just looked so soulless and stark without the little traces of life. I grabbed my suitcase and headed towards the stairs. I would be back in two weeks. What was I thinking getting sentimental looking at my empty dorm room? I would be moving out for good in May anyways. I shook myself as I started to lug my suitcase down four flights of stairs. The dorms were already pretty empty. I suppose that most people had already gone home to their families.

I hailed a cab and gave the cabby the address of the airport. I sat in the back of the cab, warmed by fantasies of warm family homes filled with parents, grandparents, siblings, green bean casseroles, and Christmas hams. I was brought back into the gray, bleak reality as the cabby shouted at me. Again, I shook myself of these pointless emotions as I paid the cab fare and grabbed my suitcase out of the trunk.

The airport was as bleak and gray as my mood. I stepped into the slowly slithering never-ending line of people. It appeared like someone had made a brief attempt at holiday spirit with a weak little sprig of tinsel. Holiday decorations must endanger national security.

I stepped up to the counter. "Excuse me for bothering you, ma'am."

A woman in her mid-forties glared up from her screen. Underneath her many layers of make-up, I could see that she hadn't slept in awhile. I gagged on the thick cloud of perfume surrounding her. "Yees..?" She prompted.

"Ah, sorry. I would like to check one bag for New York."

"Flight number?" Her voice crawled over my skin like the spider in my mailbox.

I looked down at my ticket. All of the number and letters jumbled up into one mess. Her clawed hand snatched the ticket away from me, scratching my hand with her polished talons. She typed a few things into her ancient little computer and tossed my bag onto the roller behind her.

"Next!" she called. I escaped off to the sides and saw the airport security lines. They were just as long. I stripped off my shoes and emptied my pockets into the buckets and was waved through like the thousands of other people heading to the States for Christmas. I looked at the long lists of terminals and flight numbers. Mine was in B29. And I had ten minutes to get there. Glancing at a map, I located the B terminal and ran past the tired business men in suits, the small families, wary and exhausted, the crying children, the sleeping adults. B29. There.

"Final boarding call for Flight 5220. Final boarding call for Flight 5220."

I handed my ticket to the flight attendant and she waved me through to the plane. I collapsed into my seat. _Almost there, finally, _was my last thought before falling asleep.

-((0))

I decided on a nice little youth hostel on 113th street. It looked low-key, had lots of foreigners, and would accept that I was going to pay in cash. It would take a few days before it'd be safe to access any of my accounts. That, and I had to arrange for some prisoner to take care of the piddly little arms dealer I couldn't take care of earlier. None of that would be very hard; it would just take a few days to orchestrate. I set my stuff down on the bed and opened up my laptop to start researching how to finish the dealer off when the door opened again. I reached for the knife in my shoe, but was stopped in my tracks as a young man walked in. He looked about the same age as me – maybe in his twenties. He has short, brunette hair that looked a bit mussed from travel. He walked cluelessly into the room and jumped as he saw me.

"Oh, I didn't see you there. Hi, I'm Chris. Chris Daae." I stared at his hand. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. Like a sculpture. I didn't know what to say. I just froze up. Something deep inside of me shifted. I was no longer the man I used to be. I took his hand and it just felt right. I could do nothing but sit and stare into his eyes. I decided in that moment, that I would follow Chis Daae for the rest of my miserable life.

-((0))

40 50 40 90 30 10 71 50 40 71 21 120 50 90 40 50 11

12/23/12 (The day after the day after the world was supposed to end.)


End file.
